Copernicus Chronicles: An Elite Dangerous Story
by Irwin C Etheridge
Summary: In the 34th century, space travel among the stars is common. Civilizations flourish on starships, starports, and outposts throughout the galaxy. These are the stories of one man reaching out among those stars in the vast galaxy. His name is Irwin Copernicus Etheridge. But you can call him Ice.
1. Episode 001

**FEBRUARY 3305**

**RALEIGH POINT**

**PAND SYSTEM**

* * *

"Cheater!"

As that word echoed throughout the room, a huge fist came down on the table breaking it in half and spilling the Brukat cards and tiles to the floor.

"You cheat!" bellowed the large creature of a man, his nostrils flaring and his eyes glaring.

"I did not," the young man said defensively, standing to his feet.

"You lie, too!" the man growled deeply. He reached down and picked up half of the table with his large hand and raised it above his head with ease.

"Gnari, I wouldn't do that if I were you," a calm voice said from the other side of the broken table.

Gnari quickly turned his head to the voice, the third player in the game. "And why not?" His glare fixated on the man still sitting in the chair.

As the calm man leaned back in his chair and smiled, the sound of three blaster rifles powering up filled the air. Gnari looked to his left, then to his right, then over his shoulder behind him. A disgusting smirk crept across his face as he saw three robed figures standing around him, each with a rifle aimed steadily at his large head.

"That's why," said the man calmly, still leaning back in his chair.

Gnari lowered the broken half-table to the ground. "I thought no weapons were allowed here, Q!" The bass in his voice rumbled the air behind every word he spoke.

"My outpost, my rules." Q finally stood up. He was considered short by most standards, but he was certainly staunch in his demeanor. He seemed to collect respect from everyone in the room without even trying. He tilted his head but kept his eyes on the large man in front of him.

Gnari growled deeply in frustration, a trademark of the Brukatau. "This is not over." He dropped the table to the ground and turned to walk away.

"Did you forget something?" asked Q. Gnari stopped, looked at Q, then glared at the young man. "Ice won that game fair and square. Hand over the key card to the ship. It belongs to him now," he said, gesturing to Ice. Gnari's large hands fished out a key card from his vest and flicked it towards the ground in front of Ice. It landed at his feet among the spilt Brukat cards and tiles. Gnari turned and stomped away, his heavy steps pounding the ground. "And you owe me for the table!" Q shouted after him. Gnari growled again.

Ice reached down and picked up the key card. Q gave a single nod to the three armed men, and they lowered their weapons and retreated into the shadows once again. He motioned to an attendant nearby who came over and starting cleaning up the mess. As Q and Ice walked off together, the normal activities of the gaming room resumed behind them.

"If I were you," Q began, "I'd change the access codes on that card as soon as possible. The Brukatau … they can be real sore losers." Ice nodded. "Those ground pounders are usually an angry bunch of folks," he went on. "And they spend a lot of their time on high gravity moons busting rocks for mining. Now us normal people"—he motioned around in a circle—"will use mining lasers … a civilized technique. But not the Brukes." He grounded his fist into the palm of his other hand. "They like pounding away at those rocks. Ground pounders, I tell ya. So much aggression."

"Which would explain why they are so huge," Ice offered, now understanding the reason for their enormous size.

"Yeah. And strong. Not a group to be taken lightly, that's for sure."

"You seem to dismiss him pretty easily."

"Gnari?" He brushed the notion aside. "This is a mining outpost. I see all sorts come through here all the time. Brukes are no different. I just stay out of their way. And I certainly don't try to beat them at their own game. I know better than to make a Bruke mad." He laughed.

"Hey, I'm not the one that pointed rifles at him," Ice said.

Q brushed that notion aside too. "Brukes don't get angry when you point a gun at them. That doesn't phase them at all. It's when you take something of theirs," he paused, "that's when you get on their bad side. And being on the bad side of a Bruke is like being a rock under their hammer—" his words trailed off as he made a crumbling motion with his fingers "—dust." He shook his head in amusement and jabbed a finger at Ice.

"It's not like I stole it," Ice said. "I won it fair and square!"

"You know that. And I know that. But he will never think that." They stopped walking, and Q put a hand on Ice's shoulder. "Listen, Ice, you've been out here a short time. You still have a lot to learn." Ice nodded. "This is no ordinary space rig out here in the middle of nowhere. A lot of people come here… some unsavory and not too friendly." He tilted his head down as if looking over a pair of invisible glasses on his nose. "And there are a lot worse places out there too. Just something to think about if you ever decide to leave that rig you call home." They turned a corner and continued walking down the long, dimly-lit corridor.

_Copernicus Colony. That's my home, _Ice thought to himself._ Why would I leave? That's where I grew up. My parents met there. They got married there. And I was born there. That's where my name came from, well, my middle name anyways._ He thought about his name, a name proudly given by his parents.

_Irwin Copernicus Etheridge. It's a mouthful, _he thought._ Almost sounds distinguished. _People who knew him called him Ice. Almost no one called him Irwin. He didn't care much for that name. If he had family around, they probably would have called him Irwin. But he didn't have any family around. It was just him.

Irwin Copernicus Etheridge. A name given with ambition and hope. A parent's hope that one day their son would leave that space rig they were confined to and go out and make a way for himself. A way that would help others and maybe make parts of the galaxy a better place. _Damn, that was a lot of ambition… and a lot of pressure, _he thought_._ _But, that was mom and dad._ They wanted better for him than what they could possibly have provided. He missed them. That's why it was so difficult for him to leave home. It was all he's ever known. That's where all his memories were.

Copernicus Colony. Belgitan System. That was home. That's where Ice worked, day in and day out, and barely getting by. Ship mechanic, cargo loader, outpost janitor … what else could he do? There wasn't much hope for someone like him: someone with little to no money, someone with little to no experience, and someone with little to no opportunities.

"So," Ice said, breaking his reverie, "you think he'll go somewhere else to trade? Any bad blood between you two now?"

"Gnari?" Q said curiously. "Not a chance,"—Q spread his arms wide in proud showmanship—"he knows that Qimmel Outpost is the mecca of all mining outposts within 200 light years of the Pand system." Ice raised an eyebrow, questioning his choice of words. "Okay, okay," Q said defensively, "he may not think it in those words, but he knows I'm the best mining outpost on this side of the bubble."

Ice glared at him. "Qimmel… Outpost… really? Doesn't the sign on the side of this rig say Raleigh Point?"

"Yeah, yeah," Q protested, "the name change hasn't gone through yet." He looked up as if talking to someone above him. "I'm still waiting on the approval from Mr. Frank Dev himself." He turned back to Ice and pulled out an info pad. After tapping a few icons and swiping left and right a couple times, he held up the info pad and said, "See, here's his reply letter."

Ice took the info pad and quickly read through the letter. It stated that the request had been received and they're reviewing it for consideration. It looked very official.

"And see, right there," Q said, pointing at the signature, "he signed it himself… F. Dev." A proud look beamed on Q's face.

Ice handed the info pad back to Q. "Well, I hope they do approve it. You deserve your name on this place," Ice added.

"I know, right," Q said with a big smile, holding his hands up as if framing the words _Qimmel Outpost_. "It has a nice ring to it, don't you think?" His proud look beamed even brighter now.

From the outside, the outpost didn't look that big. On the inside, the various corridors seemed to go on in all directions. It was very easy to get lost or turned around for someone not familiar with the layout. Fortunately, Q knew exactly where to go and how to get there. Ice followed close behind every step of the way.

"Good game by the way," Q said, breaking the silence. "I was surprised you got the big guy to wager his ship." Ice smiled. "I was quite impressed," Q added, with a knowing smile.

"Thank you, Q." Ice paused, enjoying the proud moment. Then, without looking at him, he said, "I was surprised you threw that last hand."

Q gave a sly smile. He asked, his words flowing like a slow, rhythmic drumbeat, "What makes you think I threw that hand?"

"C'mon, Q, we played Brukat enough times… I know when you're bluffing."

Q laughed. "Well, I knew you had him beat. And I have no use for a ship… especially a Sidewinder. I'm no pilot. Besides, I'm sure you could use it more than I could."

"What? You have two Haulers! Uh, like the one you flew me here in."

"True, but _I_ didn't pilot it." Q said defensively. "My pilot piloted it. Besides, they're basically just shuttlecrafts. They don't get used much." Q paused a moment before adding with a slight bow, "Except… for your royal high-anus's arrival."

Without missing a step, Ice straightened his back and with a hand held across his chest replied in a dignified tone, "In the future, I would kindly advise you to refer to me with my appropriate title of _Royal Highness_ or next time it will be off with your head."

"My humblest apologies your m-_ass-_jesty," Q replied, trying not to laugh. "Oh how could I ever make it up to you."

"You may return me to my kingdom in the morning." Ice paused. "Well, you may have _your pilot_ return me to my kingdom." They both laughed out loud.

The noise of the gaming room was far from earshot now. They continued to walk down the corridors as the hum from ventilation ducts filled the din around them. Q greeted a few people here and there as they walked by.

"So," Q said, breaking the silence, "what are you going to do?"

Ice thought a moment, knowing what he was referring to. "I don't know. I just don't know." Q remained silent and just occasionally glanced at Ice as they walked. "I mean, I'm no pilot. It does me no good to own a ship." Ice took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I could sell it. Maybe get 30K depending on the class of modules in it. That would set me up for a little while." Q smiled and nodded. "Then what? Back to scraping hulls and loading cargo? Barely getting by? Back to the same old grind?" Q's smile faded as they let their silence fill the air once again.

They turned a corner and the corridor opened up to a wider passageway. Q paused a moment. Ice sidestepped a man sleeping on the floor, half covered with a dirty blanket. As Q moved past the man, he pulled the blanket up to the man's chest without waking him. Before walking away, he dropped a few coins in the man's hat that laid nearby.

The passageway was 40 meters long and half as wide. Several people stood or sat in different areas along the walls. They looked homeless or, at least, down on their luck. It reminded Ice of his own parents. They both stood there taking in the sight.

"Opportunity is what you make of it, Ice. Some people are lucky enough to have it come around often," Q said, feeling a bit guilty of his own circumstances. "But for some, it seems to just pass them by." He moved his eyes across the occupants of the passageway. "And then for others," he looked at Ice, "it seems to knock at just the right time. You just have to figure out… what are you going to do?" Ice kept looking around, deep in thought. Q let him have this moment before tapping him on the arm and saying, "C'mon, let's get some food." Ice stood a moment before catching up to Q at the service lift.

As the service lift moved along its tunnel to the upper levels, they stood there in silence. Ice continued to think about his situation. He wondered what he should do with the ship he'd just won in a game of Brukat. He also thought about how he pissed off a Bruke and what that could mean for him if they cross paths again. He also thought about how all this could effect Q's business. When the lift reached its destination, it slowed and then shuddered to a stop. Q stepped out, and Ice followed behind.

"So," Ice said, putting his current thoughts away for the moment, "everything is good between you and Gnari, right?"

Q wiped the confused look from his face and said, "It's fine. We're good. Stop worrying about it," he reassured Ice. "Why are you so concerned about this?"

"I… I don't know. I just… I don't want to mess up any business for you. I know the life of a merchant isn't easy sometimes."

"A merchant? _A merchant?_" Q asked, feigning surprise. "I am no mere merchant my man. I am an entrepreneur… an industrialist… an executive of free enterprise." Ice clearly saw the haughty but amused look in Q's expression as he spun around on his heels and stretched his arms wide and continued, "Traders come far and wide because they know that Qimmel Outpost—name change pending—is the mecca of all mining outposts within 200 light years of the Pand system." He dropped his arms and confidently smiled as his expression eased back to normal. He walked over to Ice standing by a window. "We're good, alright. Don't worry about me. You need to concern yourself with you."

A questioning look emerged on Ice's face. "What do you mean?"

"Just meet me in the dining hall when you're ready." Q said. Then, he motioned toward the window. "I'll, uh… I'll give you two a moment together." Q smiled and walked away.

Ice turned around and looked through the wide view window that faced Hanger Bay 17E. The very worn and old Sidewinder sat there in the middle of the docking platform. The ship was in desperate need of a good cleaning and a paint job. The white paint along all the edges was so worn it revealed the dark gray metal coloring underneath.

It was small. Very small. The Sidewinder was the smallest ship in use that had a frameshift drive allowing it to hyperspace jump between star systems. It was a cheap and slow way to get around the galaxy, but it could be done.

Ice glanced at the key card in his hand and then at the ship once again. _Well_, Ice thought, _I own a Sidewinder. Now what am I going to do with it? What am I going to do?_


	2. Episode 002

**JULY 3305**

**COPERNICUS COLONY**

**BELGITAN SYSTEM**

* * *

"Shut it off! Shut it off!"

"Got it."

"Nope! Still on! Try the other one!"

"Sorry! How 'bout now?"

The young man came around the corner, his dull blue coveralls hanging heavily on his body.

"Sorry 'bout that," said the old man. "I thought I had the right one." He pulled a towel off a nearby shelf and handed it to the young man. He apologized again.

"Don't worry about it. It's not your fault." He wiped his face and hair with the towel. He looked at his drenched coveralls and wondered what he was going to do. "This is my only pair and it's soaked," he said to the old man, not implying any blame.

"I got a spare one I keep in the office, in the cabinet next to the desk," the old man offered. "You can use that the rest of the shift." He look apologetic, even though the busted pipe was not his fault.

"You sure?" the young man asked, holding his arms off his sides trying to keep the soaked sleeves off his body.

"Yes, yes, I'm sure," the old man insisted, shooing him in the direction of the office. "You go change and get some coffee or something, and I'll clean up this mess." He grabbed a mop and bucket from a closet.

"You sure? I—"

"Go, Irwin!" the old man shooed him again, playfully jabbing at him with the mop handle.

The young man surrendered and sloshed his way towards the office. Normally, he would cringe when someone called him by his given name. Irwin. Almost everyone except family called him Ice. And being an only child and having both parents deceased, Ice had no family around. But he was okay with the old man calling him Irwin. He was the closest thing Ice had to family.

Ice entered the brightly lit office and looked around. He spotted the rusty cabinet next to the desk and began rummaging through it to find the extra pair of coveralls. _Here we are in the 34th century, _he thought to himself, _and we're still using cabinets and storage units from a thousand years ago. _He shook his head and chuckled.

After a few minutes, he found the faded green coveralls and held them up. He noticed some patches on the legs and a patch on one of the sleeves. _Were those sewn on? That's old school, _he thought. He turned the coveralls around and looked at the front. _Whoah, is that … stitched on there? _He carefully ran his fingers over the name patch. He admired and appreciated the craftsmanship of the embroidery as he traced each letter in the name: B-E-R-N-I-E. _You don't see stuff like this anymore, _he thought. _This is really old school. _

He peeled off his wet coveralls and tossed them by the door, making a mental note not to forget to take them home later. He slid on Bernie's coveralls which, surprisingly, fit quite well. He even liked the green color. It was a nice change. If there was anything Ice needed, it was change. But he wouldn't admit that.

After visiting his good friend, Q, in the Pand System five months ago, life has been uneventful. Actually, that's not entirely true. Ice has been really busy every day. Life has just been boringly eventful and not very exciting. It's like that really old saying: Same Stuff, Different Day.

Clean this. Fix that. Unload this. Load that. Remove this. Install that. Janitor. Cargo loader. Mechanic. Same stuff. Different day.

Ice took a deep breath and thought about that cup of coffee Bernie mentioned. _A hot, fresh cup of coffee sounds really great right about now, _he thought. As he made is way to the so-called kitchen, he clapped his hands and rubbed them together with coffee anticipation on his mind.

The kitchen was a small, dimly lit room. It seemed like everything was dimly lit on this rig. A heavily stained sink sat in the counter on one side. A couple cabinets and a medium size refrigerator lined the opposite wall. Ice grabbed a mug from a cabinet and set it in the coffee maker near the sink. He opened the box of coffee pods and realized it was empty. He leaned back against the counter and sighed. _Come on, just one coffee pod. That's all I need! _He looked in the cabinets. He looked in the drawers. He looked everywhere he could think of. Nothing. There were no more coffee pods left. He surveyed the room one more time and then his eyes stopped when they scanned the corner. He walked over and opened the lid to the trash can. There was one used coffee pod sitting near the top of the garbage pile. _I must really be desperate. _He reached in and moved, what he hoped was just, a wilted piece of lettuce and pulled the coffee pod out. He shook it a little and felt there was still some coffee grounds left in the pod. How much and how strong, he did not know. But he was going to find out.

He rinsed off the outside of the pod and inserted it in the coffee maker, turned it on, and waited. It smelled like coffee. It looked like coffee. When it was finished brewing, he added a little bit of sugar. He stirred his coffee, put the spoon on the counter, picked up the mug, and took a careful sip.

"Oh yeah," he said, nodding to himself. "That ain't nothing but dirty sugar water." He poured the rest down the sink and walked out. _Today is not going very well._

"Irwin," Bernie called to him just outside the kitchen. "The bathroom up on D-3 is stopped up again. You mind?" Bernie gave him an apologetic shrug.

"On my way," Ice sighed.

Five minutes later, Ice arrived on the scene. "What the hell?" he said to himself. "This is more than just stopped up." There was an inch of water covering the bathroom floor. The toilet in the last stall was still running. He splashed his way to the toilet and jiggled the handle a few times hoping it would stop. It did. He saw that a large amount of toilet paper and human excrement is what kept it from flushing properly. He took his plunger and began the task of unclogging. Down. Up. Down. Up. Wait for it. A few air bubbles floated to the surface. Down. Up. Down. Up. Wait. A few more air bubbles and a gurgling sound. Down. Up. Down. Up. Wait. Nothing.

"Really?" he said aloud, apparently to the toilet. "Come on, you piece of…" his words trailed off as he let out another long sigh. "It's the 34th century," he began to rant, "we figured out how to simulate artificial gravity on spaceships and small outposts without using centripetal force. But, even 2,000 years after its invention, you figure toilet science would've gotten better by now."

"Oh, uh, sorry," a voice said behind him. He turned around to see a man backing up slowly. "I'll… uh… I'll just find another bathroom. It's okay." The man backed a few more steps out of the doorway, then bolted out of sight.

Ice's shoulders slumped. "Great. Now I'm crazy. I'm talking to myself," Ice said, to himself. He shook his head and returned to his plunging. After a few more times, the toilet finally unclogged and flushed. He spent the next 45 minutes cleaning up the water with a mop and bucket.

When he finished, he returned back to the office. Bernie was just getting back too.

"Hey, Bernie, you wouldn't happen to have an extra pair of boots in your office, would ya?" Ice asked.

"Sorry, I don't. Was it that bad?"

"Eh, nothing a plunger and mop couldn't take care of." Ice plopped down in a chair, the exhaustion getting the better of him. He noticed Bernie was just finishing up his cleaning job. "You all finished up here?"

"Yeah. Should be good to go." Bernie pointed to Ice's boots. "They get soaked?"

"Nah, not really," he said, inspecting his boots. "Just the thought of splashing around in dirty toilet water is… kind of gross, you know."

Bernie feigned disgust and nodded.

"Well," Ice said as he stood back up, "if you don't need me for anything else, I think I'll head over to the loading bays… see if they need a hand with anything."

"Sounds good. Appreciate the help here."

"Not a problem." He gave Bernie a nod and slowly made his way to the loading bays.

Ice navigated his way through several corridors and down several service lifts. He could've made this walk blindfolded. He knew this outpost better than the back of his hand. He was born here. He grew up here. Copernicus Colony was his home. Why leave something so familiar? Why venture out into the unknown and unpredictable vastness of infinite space? These were the thoughts that plagued his consciousness the past five months. Ever since he returned from his visit with Q in the Pand system. Ever since he won that Sidewinder in a game of Brukat. He thought about that ship that still sits in one of Q's docking bays. Q agreed to hold it there until he figured out what he was going to do with it. _I should've sold that thing a long time ago and been done with it, _he thought.

Ice reached the loading bays and noticed work was really slow. He took up residence in one of the nearby offices. With nothing else going on at the moment, he set up is vid player and watched some old movies. The next couple hours passed quietly, to which Ice greatly appreciated.

"Hey, turd herder," a voice called out down the corridor.

Ice leaned back in his chair and looked out the doorway. A narrow shouldered man with close cropped dark hair was walking towards him. The man's head seemed over balanced from the rest of his body which created a bobbing effect as he walked. Ice stifled his amusement.

"Hey, you hear me talking to you?" the man said as he walked in the office. Ice said nothing and just waited for the man to continue. "Whatever," he said in disgust, "hey, I got 80 tons of biowaste that need unloading. Krait MkII in bay 3, _Stellar Flare_."

Ice turned to the computer console beside him, brought up the cameras for loading bay 3, and saw the Krait MkII. It was an impressive multipurpose ship. Wide and flat with an almost triangular shape. Ice even liked the bright yellow-orange-red predator paint job. _Stellar Flare_ was written in black set over a pair of outstretched wings. The ship ID "BUCK69" was written near the front of the ship.

Ice turned his head back to the man. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, I need a new vacuum tube on the WCS. And the crap cans need changing. You got that?"

WCS… Waste Collection System. More crap to deal with. Literally. Ice didn't answer.

"Hey, you hear me, turd herder? I ain't got all night."

Ice closed the vid screen on the console and turned back to the man. "Well, CMDR"—he looked at the man's name tag—"Bucknell, we're a little backed up right now. It's going to be a while."

Bucknell made a sound of disapproval then uttered, "Whatever." He turned and stormed out of the office mumbling something. All Ice heard was "idiots."

Ice turned back to the console and input the job into the work queue. It was the only job in the queue. He smiled amusingly.

"Wah gwaan, bredda?"

_Wah what? _Ice thought. When he turned and looked at the doorway, he noticed a bald man with dark complexion leaning in. He wore a gray outfit over a plain black flight suit. He had an energetic smile on his face.

"Wah…" the man began again, then recomposed himself before saying with a much clearer Basic accent, "uh, what's going on, brother?"

"Oh, uh, nothing." Ice thought about replying back with _wah gwaan _using the man's obvious native tongue, but thought the better of it. "What's going on with you?" he said instead.

"Ah, nothing, bernie. Ya know where me can get some good food around here?"

Ice liked the way the man spoke. His accent was familiar. Then he realized, _the man is Jamaican. How cool was that?_ Ice didn't hear too many different dialects out here, but he did recognize this from some of the movies and tv shows he watched.

"FoodChute up on 3 is pretty decent, if you're in a hurry," Ice answered. "Otherwise if you've got time for a real meal, Lively Chef on 2 is really good. About the only good thing on this rig."

"Sounds like ya know ya way around," he said with a nice mix of Basic English and Jamaican Creole.

"Been here my whole life. Born and raised."

"I see," the man said, "me couldn't do that, bernie. Floating around on a space rig in the middle of nowhere with no control of where ya go?" He held his arms out and mimicked floating. "Nah, man. Not for me," he said as he gestured it with his hands.

Ice never thought of it that way. He really didn't know any different.

"Listen here, bernie," the man said as he walked all the way into the office, "there's nothing like being _your own_ captain on _your own_ ship making _your own_ way around the galaxy. No man is made to stay caged up, ya know."

"So go out among the stars and explore, right?"

"That's what me saying, bernie!" the man exclaimed with a huge smile on his face.

Ice began to wonder why the man kept calling him bernie. _Was it Jamaican slang for something? …kind of like _bredda _for brother? …or _wah gwaan_ for what's going on? _Before Ice realized it, he heard himself asking the question out loud. "Why do you keep calling me bernie?"

The man cocked his head at an angle and pointed to the name patch on Ice's coveralls. "Is that not your name? Bernie?"

Ice looked down and laughed, forgetting he had on Bernie's extra pair of coveralls. "No, no, sorry… these… these aren't mine. You see, earlier, mine got soaked and I needed a dry pair, and a friend of mine let me borrow…" Ice let his explanation fade. "You know what, it's not important," he said, more to himself than to the man. Ice stood up and offered his hand in greeting, "My name is Ice."

The man shook Ice's hand and replied, "Winn. Drew Winn."

"Nice to meet you, Drew Winn."

"Nice to meet you, Ice. I take it that's a nickname."

"Yeah. It's just my initials, but it works. I like it better than my given name. Irwin."

Drew smiled. He thought for a moment before saying, "Yeah, I'd probably go by a nickname too." They both laughed. "Me actually thinking about changing my name," Drew added.

"What for?"

"Well," Drew began as they both sat down across from each other, "me got this new job that I'm about to embark upon, and me thought it was a good opportunity to start fresh, brand new ya know? New job. New ship. New name."

"A whole new beginning," Ice added.

"That's what me saying, B—" Drew paused. "I mean, Ice." Drew smiled.

Ice chuckled and added, "I see what you're saying. I'm sure you'll think of something. What's the new job? If you don't mind me asking."

"Aboard the Gnosis. With Canonn Interstellar Research Group. You know it?"

"I do. That's the megaship that jumps way out there outside the bubble, right? Sometimes to systems that haven't even been visited yet?"

"That's what me saying. Great opportunity to explore and see the stars. And while me at it, I may get my name tagged on a few systems." Drew framed his hands above his head and said, "First discovered by CMDR Drew Winn. Or whatever name I decide. Me got an interview with the man, Enrique Delgado with Canonn, in a couple days. We'll see what happens."

"Sounds really nice." _It does sound really nice, _Ice thought. Was he doing the right thing by staying on Copernicus Colony? Should he be out there blazing a vapor trail and exploring the galaxy? There was so much he could accomplish out there among the vastness of the stars and the limitless possibilities that await him. There was only so much for him here among the plungers, mops, and literal crap jobs that filled his days. _No man is made to be caged up_, he remembered Drew saying a minute ago. Some days… most days, he felt like he lived his life in a cage.

"Hey, what's this here you watching?" Drew asked, breaking Ice from his reverie.

"Star Wars."

"Never heard of it." Drew leaned in to get a closer look. "Those graphics are terrible."

_Graphics? _Ice thought for a moment then let out a laugh. "Oh, no, those are real people not graphics. This is from the late 1900s," he began to explain. "You see, back then, they actually used real people to make movies. Well, most movies. Not like now where most are pretty much computer generated."

"No kidding?"

"No kidding. Ancient times, right," Ice said, smiling.

"Interesting. You watch a lot of these ancient movies?"

"Actually I do. Pretty much grew up watching them. Some people think I'm obsessed with 20th century pop culture."

"And what do _you_ think?"

"I think," Ice thought for a moment, "I think sometimes I was born in the wrong century. I mean… I do have a strange fascination with the 20th century." Ice shrugged.

"Perhaps. But that makes you unique. Different. Ya know, interesting," Drew added, the Jamaican accent getting more noticeable.

"Interesting? I don't know about that." Ice laughed.

"Well, I do. I mean, you already got me wondering about these ancient movies now." Drew laughed this time.

"You think you might want to watch these?" Ice tried not to seem too excited at this idea. But he did like the notion that he could possibly share his interests with someone else.

"Yah man, I'd give it a go. Me probably going to have a lot of downtime on the Gnosis. This could help pass the time."

Ice opened a drawer and fished out a spare data drive. He copied all the Star Wars movies onto it and added a few others. "Here," he said, handing the data drive to Drew, "watch them in this order too. It might make it a little easier to follow the overall story. Oh, and you can skip Episode I if you want. You really wouldn't miss a lot, but it does have some cool scenes in it. Up to you. And I threw in some extra ones… some of my other favorite ancient movies from around that time."

"Thanks, Ice. I'll definitely check them out." He got up, put the data drive in his pocket, and walked toward the view window that faced the docking bay where his Type-6 Transporter was sitting.

Ice stepped beside Drew and looked at the ship through the view window. "Slate gray and no name," he said, "it does need some color. And a name."

"This is true," Drew agreed, smiling. They both stood there for a moment staring at the colorless and nameless ship sitting in the middle of the docking bay.

"Well," Ice finally said, breaking the silence, "here's to the stars and beyond."

"To the stars and beyond," Drew repeated.

Ice turned to his new friend. "Good luck out there CMDR Drew Winn." He held out his hand.

Drew turned and shook his hand. "And good luck to you," he paused a second before jokingly adding, "Bernie." They both laughed a while before parting ways.

When his shift finally ended, Ice turned the lights off in the office and locked the door. The way he meandered down the long corridor to the service lift made it look as if he was slightly drunk. But he wasn't. Instead, it was exhaustion and uncertainty that weighed him down. Uncertainty of what his future held for him. Uncertainty of what direction he wanted his life to go. When he entered the service lift, he stood there staring at the panel that awaited his input. After a few more moments, he typed in SR1-UD1. Instead of going down to sub-level 7 where his living quarters was located, he decided to go up to Upper Deck 1. The panel beeped twice and asked for authorization. Ice inserted his ID badge into the slot. The panel gave a single high tone and confirmed authorization. The doors closed and the service lift moved upwards. As part of the maintenance crew, his ID badge gave him access to all areas of the outpost, including areas that were closed, abandoned, or simply off-limits to everyone else. Show Room 1 on Upper Deck 1 fit all three categories.

Many years ago, Copernicus Colony used to serve as a showroom for a couple of ship manufacturers, primarily Faulcon deLacy and Core Dynamics. As time went on, manufacturers stopped using physical showrooms and adopted the use of virtual showrooms, where a potential customer could view and inspect any available ship from the comfort of a full-body VR booth. When physical showrooms were finally phased out, companies felt it was not cost effective to remove the ships and left them where they were. Too much time, money, and effort would be consumed to have all the required components installed back into the ships and the upper outer enclosure of the outpost removed and reinstalled to get the ships out. All the ships in the showroom were basically shells, most of the mechanical components removed for safety reasons. When the showrooms were no longer in use, they tried to use them as museums. When interest in viewing these ships declined, they eventually closed them down and abandoned them. Now they are thought of as mausoleums and never visited.

Growing up on Copernicus Colony was not easy. There wasn't many things for a child to do. This didn't stop Ice from finding things to keep him occupied. As a child, he didn't have an ID badge that gave him access to different areas. But he didn't need a badge back then, he had access ducts and air vents to get him where he wanted to go. He would spend a lot of time in the abandoned showroom. It was his place to get away from the busy and sometimes hectic life of the outpost. And after both his parents died, it was his quiet place to visit to think about his parents, think about his life and what may happen to him, and sometimes not to think at all. He would bring his info pad and vid player and binge watch old tv shows and movies. That's where his fascination with 20th century pop culture and his love for the early 2000s came from. The turn of the millennium. Y2K as it was called back then.

When the service lift reached the showroom floor, the doors opened and the stale, musty air hit him. He coughed out a couple times, covered his nose and mouth, and breathed in very slowly giving him time to adjust to the musty smell. _Has it always been like this?_ Although it's been many years since he's been up here, it was all coming back to him. He was surprised it was still as he remembered it. He wondered why nothing was done with the place. It seemed like a lot of wasted space. And there was a lot of space.

The showroom was wide and extremely long. The ceiling was made of several layers of pressure glass supported by bowstring trusses all along the length of the showroom. The upper floor contained several Eagle MkII's around the edge. The second floor had a Cobra MkIII in the corner. The large showroom opened in the middle to the bottom floor that had a full-size Anaconda. It measured a little over 150 meters in length. It was massive. This was considered one of the largest ships that a commander could pilot. Outposts like Copernicus Colony only had medium and small landing pads, so an Anaconda couldn't dock here. A large landing pad would be needed.

Ice spent some time walking the different floors and admiring the ships on display. The impressive Anaconda was a sight to behold. Just acquiring one was the goal of many commanders. It was like a symbol of status. The Eagle was sleek and stream-lined, reminiscent of jets in the ancient days on Earth. Then, there was the Cobra. It was flat and wide and reminded Ice of an oversized Sidewinder.

_Sidewinder, _he thought. _I have a Sidewinder. My very own Sidewinder ship. It's 219 light years away. Sitting in a hangar collecting dust. Waiting for me to decide what to do with it._

Ice leaned his head back and took a deep breath, slightly choking on the stale, musty air. He looked up through the large glass windows that covered the top of the showroom. He could see the stars, hundreds of them dotting the dark blanket of space. Every once in a while, a ship would pass by, and he could follow the colored engine trails it would leave in its wake.

Ice climbed up on the Cobra MkIII and lay down on his back behind its cockpit. He had a great view of the stars now. He began to remember how he use to do this very same thing as a kid when he snuck in here. He remembered looking out of these windows and seeing the stars and thinking how fun it would be to explore the galaxy and live among the stars. _I did think that, didn't I? _he thought to himself. He realized that his memories as a kid lying in this very spot looking up at the stars began to merge with his current thoughts and desires. His aspirations.

"I do want to be out there among the stars," he finally said out loud. "I wanted that as a kid, and I guess I want that now too. I just forgot." He forgot about the things he dreamed about as a kid. He forgot about the things he wanted to do and see when he got older. He forgot about taking care of himself when he finally had the chance to. When he lost both his parents, he threw himself into other things. He stayed busy working around the outpost. Everything else about him got buried, and he faded into commonality.

Until now.

"It's time to make a change," he said as he sat up. He took out his info pad and composed a message to Q:

_Made my decision. I want my ship here. Time for me to leave this rig and play space commander._

Ice began to set his info pad down but got a reply from Q:

_Hells yes! About time! _

Ice couldn't help but to laugh. He typed back:

_As soon as I get the credits for the transport cost, I'll send for it. _

His info pad chimed with an incoming video call. It was Q. He tap the button to accept.

"Nonsense!" Q exclaimed as soon as the call connected.

"What?"

"No way. All costs are on me."

"What? No. I can't let you do that, Q. You already did enough by holding my ship there all this time."

"NON. SENSE." Q looked right into the camera as he said this. Ice noticed Q was walking down corridors as they talked. "I'm more than happy to, Ice. I will cover the cost for transport and," he hesitated a moment then smiled and added, "and some extra stuff."

"Whoah, wait. What extra stuff? I can't let you—"

"Irwin Copernicus Etheridge!" Q said as he stopped walking. Ice was shocked. Q continued with absolute conviction in his tone, "Listen, my best friend is about to venture out into the biggest thing he has ever done in his entire existence, and I want and will support him in any and every way that I can. Understand?"

Ice sat there motionless and speechless, still shocked. He knew they were friends. He knew they were _best_ friends. But to hear it from Q with such emotion, it really hit him deep inside. He realized how fortunate he was to have someone like Q in his life.

"Hello? Did you hear me, knucklehead?"

"Yeah. Uh, yeah…" Ice repeated as he slowly returned from his thoughts.

Q shook his head and chuckled. "Knucklehead," he said with a smile. "Listen, I'm not going to do anything major. I just want to clean up that rust bucket for you. You know, make it look halfway decent."

"I appreciate it. I really do."

"Don't mention it." Q looked closer at the vid screen on his info pad. "Where are you at right now?" he asked, scrutinizing the backdrop behind Ice.

A slow smile crept across Ice's face. He moved out of the view of the camera so Q could see behind him. Then he turned the info pad around and panned it across the showroom.

"Wow," Q said slowly. "I can't believe that's still up there."

"I know, right. It's been a long time since I was up here last."

"Even longer for me," Q said with a smile. "Hey, is it still there?"

Ice squinted trying to think of what Q was talking about. Then it hit him. _I forgot all about that_, he thought. He slid down off the Cobra and quickly made his way to the bottom floor of the showroom. He ran to the Anaconda and began scanning the underside of the spaceship. Meanwhile, Q was trying not to get dizzy as he watched the shaky and spinning vid screen on his info pad.

"Right forward landing gear," Q offered. "Inside door panel. Right—"

"—behind the Faulcon deLacy logo," they both said in unison. Ice found the spot. He saw the crude engraving etched into the metal panel:

_JAQ - ICE_

_3290_

Ice pointed the camera of his info pad at the panel so Q could see that the writing was still there and visible.

"That's the year we met," Q said.

"Yup. And that's the moment you gave me my nickname."

"Yeah… calling you Irwin just didn't seem quite right. It wasn't until you wrote out your initials that it hit me. Perfect nickname!" They both laughed. "Good times, Ice."

"Good times indeed, Q."

"Juvenile delinquent times… scratching graffiti on Pilots' Federation property. We were quite the outlaws back then." They both laughed even louder this time.

"So, listen," Q said after a long moment of silence, "give me a couple weeks to get your Sidewinder looking pretty for your first date, and I'll get it sent over. Sound good?"

"Sounds great, Q. I appreciate it."

"No problem. Just one last thing to do."

"What's that?" Ice asked hesitantly.

"A name, knucklehead. You need to come up with a good name for your ship."

"Oh, that's easy," Ice said confidently. "I already have the perfect name picked out."


End file.
